I turn into Lincoln Plaza and stop walking. I am provoking his move and therefore preparing myself. He turns around the corner and bumps into me.
He’s an unobtrusive person, one who blends in. Exactly the type of person needed for surveillance.
I slide my hand into his jacket pocket, pull out his phone, and slip it into mine before I say, “Watch where you go next time.”
His eyes narrow, and I remove myself with anger on my face, walking away in the direction I came from.
He can’t follow me now. If he does, he’d blow everything up.
I turn onto 5th Avenue, walk till I reach the subway station of Bergen Street, and slip into the 4th line at the last possible moment with my heel almost getting caught by the closing doors. As I walk through the carriage, I monitor the people around me. I don’t sit, but lean against the door and watch my surroundings with my loot in my hand. I am going to switch subways several more times and then blend in with the Manhattan night buzz.
I still can’t believe I managed to break into Hedda’s brownstone. The thought alone makes it impossible for me to stop grinning, but what’s even better is the touch of my loot underneath my fingers.
I use the time in the sub to slip the guy’s phone into a Faraday bag to avoid tracking.
Thirty minutes later, I enter the building leading to my apartment in Tribeca. It’s an old warehouse with a really nice studio, which has a rooftop terrace with a phenomenal view of Manhattan, including the Empire State Building.
“That’s it?” asks Rossi as he takes the tube from my hand and opens it to lurk inside.
“It is,” I say as I slip out of my heels. “Here, got you a present,” I say and throw the Faraday bag with the phone I took from the man into her hands.
“Whose is it?” she asks as she feels through the bag
“Belonged to the guy who followed me,” I say. “Figured I’d find out who he is.”
Meanwhile, I slide the canvas out from the tube and unroll it carefully.
“I love you, woman,” says Rossi as he stands next to me.
As far as people go, Rossi is alright. One of the only people I trust. He is as gay as someone can get, and while he is eccentric to the point of visual pain in my eyes, he is a master of transformation. And because most people overlook him because he’s small and bald, he is the most valuable person I've ever met. He is extremely well-read and one of the best forgers I know. He also has knowledge of everything tech. I am not an idiot, but he is something else.
“She is a beauty,” I say. “She’ll get a special place.”
Rossi leans in on the canvas.
“Hm,” he says.
“Hm, what?” I ask.
“Don’t you think the color here looks a bit off?” he says, and points to a light reflection.
My eyes narrow.
I pull the canvas close and smell it.
“Safflower oil,” I say, holding it for Rossi to smell.
I grab the bag from her hand, pull out the phone, and open the burner.
I crack up in laughter as I read the only message on the phone.
See you in Paris, H.
“Damn, that bitch,” I say, while I am truly impressed by Hedda’s skills.
“She really had you fooled,” says Rossi.
“Apparently,” I say and chuckle. Because I love everything about it. I’m always in for a game.
